


If You're Gonna Be The Death Of Me, That's How I Wanna Go

by GallifreyanAtHearts



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:36:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanAtHearts/pseuds/GallifreyanAtHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the third time this week, Frank finds himself bringing Gerard dinner at work after being stood up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You're Gonna Be The Death Of Me, That's How I Wanna Go

**Author's Note:**

> I started what would eventually become this fic a really long time ago and I would write a sentence here and there every now and again. About a month ago, I decided to scrap what I had and completely make over the idea. Of course, being me, I abandoned that, too. Then I got really inspired and I just went and finished it and then realized that my favorite line from my favorite song (Collar Full) off of Panic! at the Disco's new album worked perfectly as the title.  
> I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it.

It took a certain kind of person to be Gerard Way’s boyfriend.  That type was the type of person that was up for sainthood.

Frank Iero is not a saint.  He swears and loses his temper and listens to rock music and drinks and smokes the occasional joint.

Yet somehow he finds himself bringing takeout to Gerard’s studio for the third time this week because he had forgotten that they had dinner plans.  Frank is not even angry.  He hadn’t actually thought Gerard would remember the second postponement of their date any more than he had remembered the first, or the original.  He can even pretend to himself that he’s not disappointed.  Not even a little.

The interior of the car fills with the smell of Chinese food as Frank drives.  It’s pleasant enough but for some reason it makes Frank feel nauseous.  The silence of the car drives him crazy and he jabs at the power button of the stereo, the only new thing in the car, the one thing Frank had splurged on to make better the hunk of metal that masqueraded as a ’99 Nissan minivan.  It had been cheap from a friend when Frank had needed a car and it may have complained, but it had somehow never given out and that was good enough for Frank.

The only thing that comes through as Frank fiddles with buttons is static and what might have been a snippet from some Top 40 hit.  It’s the damned weather, cloudy and threatening, much like Frank’s mood.  Frank takes his eyes off the road for a second to grab a CD from the passenger seat and he coaxes it into the player before returning to driving.  It’s a bad habit, taking his eyes off the road, and Gerard hates it.  But Gerard isn’t fucking here, is he.  That’s the whole fucking point.

It seems like it takes longer than usual to get to the little building that houses Gerard’s studio.  The main part of the building is an art gallery, co-owned by Gerard and his friend Lindsey.  They share the studio that is the top floor.  It’s offbeat and cool.  Lindsey did most of the organizing of shows and displays and business things while Gerard was the one who charmed visitors and potential customers.  They both had a few pieces of their own art on display.  It’s actually one of Frank’s favorite places, but he glares at it venomously as he parks in the lot and makes his way up the walk.  He clutches the takeout bag tightly as he knocks on the door.  It’s after hours, after all.

He waits a few minutes, but he knows it’s no use.  Lindsey will already have left for home and her daughter and Gerard is in a whole other world.  Frank usually feels bad about picking the lock, but this time he really couldn’t care less, and he pulls out the bobby pin he brought, knowing this would happen.  He keeps a whole pack of them just for this purpose.

It takes him a moment to get both the doorknob and the deadbolt but he’s pretty good at lock picking, and he’s picked these particular locks so many times he could probably do it in his sleep.  He pushes the door open and Frank doesn’t worry about the tinkle of the little bell; an earthquake couldn’t distract Gerard while he was working.  He walks purposefully across the gallery floor, after locking the door behind him, and into the office space and then up the stairs.  While climbing the stairs he almost wishes there was a door he could fling open dramatically but there isn’t so he just enters the open space, marching across the room to where Gerard stands behind an easel, facing Frank but not seeing him.  Frank moves behind him and taps him on the shoulder and Frank holds back a satisfied snicker.  Gerard turns around to face Frank and his face falls into relief.

“It’s just you.”  He breathes.  “I thought…you fucking terrified me.”

“Yeah, _just_ me.”  Frank repeats with a snide edge to his voice.  Gerard doesn’t seem to notice.  Frank didn’t expect him to.  He holds the bag of food up to Gerard.  “Chinese.”  Gerard’s face lights up.

“You’re the _best_.”  Gerard says.  Frank makes a noncommittal noise.  Gerard inspects the bag.  “Hang on – this is from the nice place.  The one on Main Street.”

“No kidding.”  Frank mutters, waiting for Gerard to get it.

“But why would you go there?  The one off of Oak is much cheaper.”  Gerard seems genuinely confused and Frank would almost find it endearing if he wasn’t so fucking… _something_.  He isn’t really sure what he is right then but it is definitely not anything positive towards Gerard.

“I was in the area.”  He deadpans, by which he actually means he waited there in the front, ignoring piteous looks from the host for about an hour.

“But that’s so out of the way!  The one on Oak is right there.  Why were you…”  Gerard stops midsentence.  “Oh.”

“Oh.”  Frank agrees.

“Frank, I –”  Frank shakes his head to stop Gerard from speaking.

“Don’t.”  He warns but Gerard still looks like he wants to say something.  “Keep that.”  Frank instructs, gesturing to the food.  “I’m not hungry.  I’m going home.”

“But you usually stay at my place Thursday night, because the store is closed on Fridays.”  Gerard says, sounding like a kicked puppy.

“I know when my day off is, Gerard.”  Frank says impatiently.  “And I’m going home.”

“But –”

“Bye.”  Frank says and turns his back to Gerard quiet, hurt protests and walks out the door.  He doesn’t look back on the stairs or in the gallery or in the parking lot but he doesn’t hear Gerard following him, which for some reason only serves to make him more upset.  He’s aggressive when he gets into his car and turns it on, slams the door, turns the key in the ignition too hard and too fast.  The car whines about this as it comes to life, wheezing its protest as he drives away.  He slams his foot on the gas and brake when each one was necessary anyway.  It had begun to rain while Frank was inside and he flips the wipers on angrily.  He just wants to put space between himself and Gerard.

The car manages a couple of miles of space, but then, because God has a sense of humor, Frank supposes, the car dies.  For the first time in the years he’s had it the fucking car just stops, refusing to move, perhaps in rebellion against Frank’s harsh treatment.

Pissed off doesn’t cover how Frank feels.  He screams creative obscenities to the sky as he jabs his hazard lights on.  Not that they are really necessary, as there no other cars on the small side street, sandwiched between sketchy storefronts and an poorly located children’s playground.  He sits with his arms crossed for a few minutes, refusing to look at his cell phone because he knows who he has to call.  He’s cold and tired and stressed and he finally sighs and grabs the phone.  It turns out that his contrariness was for naught, however, as he cannot make a call go through.  Not enough service, not in this weather.

Fuck.  He looks out the window.  The rain is coming down even harder and there is a flash of lightning.  He is only a couple of miles from home, easily walkable, but no way, not in this weather.  He shivers, suddenly drained and anxious.

“Fuck.”  He whispers.  “Fuck.”  Frank looks up through the windshield as thunder booms.  “Fuck _everything_!”  He screams, drowning out the sound.  He almost feels like something should be different, that he impacted his surroundings in some way, but of course he hadn’t.  Nothing is different.  Nothing is better.

He closes his eyes rests his head against the seat.  He reaches out to the dash to turn on the heat, but he knows it will be useless, it hasn’t worked since the winter before last.  He shivers again and then an idea strikes.

He sighs and climbs into the middle bench and then moves around to the back seat, which he leans over to reach into the trunk.  He returns, triumphant with his emergency blanket.  He gets back into the middle and leans to turn the car off, and pulls the key out, dropping it in the cup holder.  He flips the two lights from ‘door’ to ‘on’ and settles himself on the middle bench, huddled under the blanket.

He tries not to think about anything, but he ends up thinking about Gerard.  He wonders if he was too hard on him.  He wishes that he was with him.  Everything seemed less bad when Gerard was with him.  Gerard made things less bad.

Frank smiles.  Gerard may be a space cadet but Frank loves him – he can’t really help it.  Gerard had marched his way into Frank’s heart and taken up residence there, permanently, Frank thinks.  Even when Gerard forgets him.  He kicks off his shoes and lies down and closes his eyes.

The next thing he knows there is banging and muffled shouting.  He opens an eye, realizing he must have fallen asleep.  He looks up through the window, and sees Gerard, standing in the downpour, trying to wake him up.  He sits up and rolls the window down.

“Frank!”  Gerard shouts.  “Thank god you’re ok!”

“Jesus Christ, you’re soaking wet!”  Frank says in confusion, still shaking sleepy cobwebs from his brain.  He opens the door to let Gerard in and moves over on the bench.  He rolls up the window and brushes against Gerard.  “You’re frozen!”  He is about to put the blanket around Gerard, but it won’t help, not with his wet clothes.  “You need to take these off,” Frank says, indicating.  Gerard raises an eyebrow but complies, the wet material falling to the floor.  After all of Gerard’s clothes are off, save his underwear, Frank wraps the blanket around him.

“It’s warm.”  Gerard sighs in relief.

“What were you thinking!?”  Frank shouts; now that Gerard is warm and safe he can be properly angry.  Gerard looks like a deer caught in Frank’s headlights.

“I was worried about you.”  He whispers almost ashamedly, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.  “You stormed off, and I couldn’t reach you on your cell or your apartment and I went to your apartment and you weren’t there and I didn’t see your car and then I remembered that you take this stupid fucking shortcut so I drove out to look and there was your car.  I thought someone had shot you or something.”

“You idiot.  This piece of shit finally decided to crap out on me.  I’m fine.”  Frank rolls his eyes.

“I know that _now_.”  Gerard says.  He is looking steadfastly at his lap.  They are both silent.  Frank out of anger, Gerard out of shame.  It’s tense for a few moments.

“I’m sorry.”  Gerard says abruptly, looking up at Frank.  Frank doesn’t say anything.  “I’m sorry I forgot dinner again.  I’m sorry I forgot you the last two times also.  I’m sorry I’m such a shitty boyfriend; I’m worse at being a boyfriend than this junk heap is at being a car and that’s saying something.  I’m just really fucking sorry, ok?”  By the end he is worked up and impassioned and looking at Frank with sad eyes.  “I’ll drive you home.  And then you don’t have to see me ever again.”  His voice is quiet again.

Frank almost slaps him.  “You idiot.”  He murmurs fondly and he leans over to brush Gerard’s damp hair off of his forehead and presses a kiss to the skin there.  “If I felt like you were someone I never wanted to see again, do you think it would bother me that you forget me?”  Gerard blinks at him.  “Come here and share that blanket, I’m freezing.”  Gerard grins.

“We could go back to your apartment in my car.”  He says.

“You’re naked.”  Frank points out and Gerard shrugs and lifts the blanket to allow Frank into its warmth.

“It’ll be warmer if you take your clothes off too.”  Gerard suggests.

“Don’t push your luck.”  Frank says.

“Hey, survival 101.”  But Gerard’s comment is unnecessary, Frank is already stripping.  When his clothes are in a pile next to Gerard’s he pulls Gerard toward him.

“The back bench is bigger.”  He says and both men move to the back.  It’s cramped but they manage to both be under the emergency blanket, huddled together.

Gerard sighs contentedly and Frank smiles because at the end of the day, Gerard is worth the trouble.


End file.
